If I refuse to wear my boots,
choose a light jacket instead of that coat,
keep my feet on gravel, ignore snow piles,
can I force winter to go?
Beguile spring with my wiles?
poem-disembodied February 12, 2020
Trees are ghost outlines,
frost coated.
Far off, along the lake, the train
hoots a melancholy call.
My feet crunch on a path
that was soft yesterday.
I cannot see the sun,
but it is there.
Perhaps things will be brighter
tomorrow?
poem-change in the wind February 10, 2020
Each day I arrive here
Look around
and notice it feels less like home.
Remember laughter,
feel their dreaming,
it’s all still here,
but where are my desires leading?
Could this all be coming to a close?
Are talent, skills, and luck
coalescing into
something new?
poem-the old fridge died February 4, 2020
You,
the mechanical miracle worker,
refuse to accept extermination.
Armed with Youtube videos
and an amp metre
you search for solutions,
find the secret place
frozen peas hide,
discover three decades of debris.
Determination pays:
You sit back, satisfied,
when hum and chilled air,
declare life.
Death defeated.
Obliteration blocked.
Cold box immaculate in revived vitality.
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poem-so like us January 31, 2020
Remember
the necklace you gave me.
Four golden strands I wanted to love
for your sake.
Every time I wore it,
it turned into a tangled disaster,
wrapped up in itself.
So like us.
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Poem-spies January 30, 2020
A Facebook found poem, with thanks to Liz.
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Seven magpies
lined up on the roof
across from my office,
watching me.
Creepy.
They are not a poem.
This is not a poem.
Not at all.
Creepy magpie
spy
poem.
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poem- Minus 26 degrees January 13, 2020
The moon lingers in blue sky,
listening to Styrofoam™ squeaking boots
on crispy, cold snow.
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poem-slice December 4, 2019
What invisible edge
slit skin on finger tip,
inserted pain into this day?
Blood dripped.
Every typed word
reminds me
danger lurks everywhere.
I face the consequences
alone.
poem-time traveler November 1, 2019
Boom box boy
bouncing to the smoke pit
announcing your existence-
loudly.
Stride on
Caught in a lost decade
I’m grateful as that music fades.
Poem- creativity September 25, 2019
The burn is sizzling
Smoke from nostrils, ears.
Instead, I’m here;
I need to fuel flames,
Tend an inferno.
Blaze brilliantly,
But now I must douse
The burn in reality.
Shawn L. Bird 